


Hold Up

by the_ragnarok



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Lydia Martin, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Open Relationships, Suspension, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe in high school Lydia liked being in charge all the time, but now she’s an adult and needs to let loose sometimes. Enter Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Up

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from tumblr, [here](http://theragnarokd.tumblr.com/post/45190951521/some-stiles-lydia-nonromantic-d-s-with-lydia-subbing). Unbeta'd.

Maybe in high school Lydia liked being in charge all the time, but now she’s an adult and sometimes she wants to scream at Jackson that she’s got enough on her plate keeping herself together, she doesn’t want to play his keeper. Especially if he won’t let her without a struggle.

Enter Stiles with his big, capable hands, who loves to take care of people if they only let him. Stiles with the most damaged boyfriend on the continent, Stiles who maybe sometimes wants to have some kinky sex that isn’t a mine field - because Derek would agree to absolutely anything in bed but actually enjoys very few things, and getting out of him what those things  _are_ is like pulling teeth. Lydia could have gone through life quite happily without knowing any of this, but Stiles is also prone to oversharing, especially with people he sleeps with.

Stiles is the one who goes to kink workshops and comes back excitable and full of ideas. “Let’s do suspension!” he says, charting the exact scene for Lydia to approve. She traces his drawing with a finger and thinks that Stiles doesn’t seem to mind physics half as much when there’s orgasms in the end.

He trusses her up, careful and methodical. Suspension hurts, even when done right. Gravity is a harsh mistress. 

Pain doesn’t bother Lydia, though, when she knows there’s nothing she has to do about it. She can relax into it, know that she is safe. Stiles knows what he’s doing. Stiles knows  _her_.

In the rush of relief being tied up brings her, she actually giggles a little.

“What’s so funny?” Stiles is mellow, too, running his hands over her back, careful of the ropes. He touches her like she’s a first edition book, reverent and desirous in a way that has little to do with physical lust.

Lydia hums and keeps quiet, eyes slipping close. Stiles laughs and kisses her forehead.

When Lydia was younger she loved swimming. Best of all, she loved floating with her face under the surface, comfortable with the burn of the breath trapped in her lungs. This is like that, a bit.

Stiles’ mouth on her clit is a surprise and isn’t. She doesn’t know if she’s even capable of startling right now, capable of doing anything but leaning into him. Stiles’ mouth is soft and wet, open, lavishing attention on her.

Normally Lydia gets self-conscious when someone goes down on her for more than a few minutes, annoyed at the inefficiency of it when a vibrator could bring her off in far less time. Stiles loves eating her out, though, makes happy little snuffles into her pussy that make her skin tingle, and the passage of time makes no sense at all to her right now.

Her orgasm sinks over her, effortless, coaxed forth by Stiles’ willing mouth. Lydia sighs softly. Stiles moves back, talking to himself, a soothing, familiar background noise.

She hears the  _snap_ of latex being rolled into place. Stiles’ fingers trace her lips.

Sometimes allowing things in is difficult, even when they’re things Lydia wants. It’s true for knowledge, having to force herself to stop and listen, assemble it in her mind. It’s true for Stiles’ dick, to a lesser degree. Lydia trained her gag reflex away back in high school. 

Stiles fucks her face carefully, gently, pausing to make sure she has plenty of time to breathe. She has no idea how he can even get off like that, but that’s his problem. Not hers.

He lets her down after he comes, methodically rubbing lotion into her skin while Lydia stretches and purrs like a cat. “Eight out of ten,” she decrees.

“Just eight? I’m hurt.” Liar. There’s a smile in his voice.

“Have to keep you motivated.” She turns around to flash him a smile. He looks ridiculous past orgasm, skin flushing, blotched, grinning like a dork.

Yet not without his own charm, even so.

“Trust me, Lydia, you’re plenty motivating.” He kisses her forehead again. “So, hey, there’s a workshop on predicament bondage next month…”


End file.
